It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. “She has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s. " Further remonstrance, however, was cut short by the sudden entrance of Mrs. I’ve—dreads. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. His age was not far from fifty.
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